Debbie laughed through her tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m just…”
“Emotional?” Preacher kissed her three more times. “Sentimental? Over-tired? Half-fuckin’-crazy?”
Debbie continued laughing. “Yes. All of that.”
There was a knock on the bedroom door. “Preacher?” The door cracked open and Frank’s voice filled the room. “We’ve got a problem.”
“Hold that thought,” Preacher said, and kissed Debbie twice more before rolling out of bed.
• • •
Laying her daughter down beside her, Debbie leaned over and pressed a kiss to each of her rosy cheeks and a third to her forehead.
“I hope your daddy agrees,” she whispered, “because Eva is a beautiful name. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl.”
She continued to nuzzle her cheek. Happily breathing in her clean, sweet scent, Debbie marveled at how much she already loved her. Every day, it seemed, she loved her more.
Sylvia had been right—giving birth had been horrible, and Debbie had felt as she was splitting in two. But once it was over, and Debbie was holding her daughter in her arms, staring down at her sweet little face, her pain became a distant memory.
Every single misgiving she’d had about becoming a mother had instantly shifted. Anxiety had turned to awe. Resentment had turned to protectiveness.
That wasn’t to say that she wasn’t still afraid. She still felt fear. She was terrified of making a mistake or doing something wrong, or accidentally hurting this little life entrusted to her. But this fear was different; this fear had a purpose, a reason, and was ultimately overshadowed by joy.
Debbie brushed a fingertip over the soft swell of her daughter’s cheek, admiring her. With dollish, delicate features and flawless porcelain skin, she really was a beautiful baby. Her eyes, though, were downright entrancing.
The sudden urge to draw her had Debbie reaching across the bed and plucking her sketch pad and pencils from the bedside table. Setting the pad in her lap, she flipped it open to a clean page. The tip of her pencil hovered over the page while she looked at her daughter, deciding on what to draw first.
Slowly, carefully, Debbie drew the soft curves of her closed eyes and then, with quick flicks of her wrist, added her dark lashes. She’d just set to work on her little pink mouth, pursed in the shape of a bow, when the bedroom door opened.
“… There’s room at the warehouse in Greenpoint.” Still talking to Frank, Preacher backed slowly into the room. “Put another couple of Rocky’s boys on watch.”
“Consider it done,” Frank replied. His dark eyes shifted, landing on Debbie. Unnerved, Debbie quickly looked away.
Since learning Maria’s heartbreaking secret, Debbie could hardly stomach even the briefest of glances in Frank’s direction. She felt culpable now—as if keeping Maria’s secret somehow made her every bit the monster Frank was.
The door clicked closed and Debbie looked up to find Preacher leaning against it.
“You okay?” She mouthed the question, fearing Frank was still in earshot.
“Fuck,” he muttered. “There’s just so much shit. Every day there’s more and—fuck.”
Pushing away from the door, Preacher reclaimed his seat beside her in bed. Holding his arm out, he gestured for her. Scooting over, Debbie tucked herself against his side.
“Sometimes I think I shoulda never gone to Four Points.” Preacher’s words were calmly spoken, though his heart pounded furiously beneath Debbie’s cheek. “Sometimes I wish I’d just put you on the back of my bike and… and just gone wherever the wind took us.”
“We could have joined the circus,” Debbie said.
Preacher snorted. “Yeah? What would I do in the damn circus?”
“Lion tamer?” she suggested. “Tightrope walker?”
Laughing, Preacher pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “What about you? What would you do in the circus?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t work in the circus, I would work the circus. Imagine all the wallets.” Grinning, Debbie glanced up, expecting to find Preacher laughing. Instead, he looked thoughtful.
“Wheels?”
“Yeah?”
“Marry me.”
Debbie froze. “What?”
Preacher dropped his chin, bringing them nose to nose. “Marry me,” he repeated.
She blinked several times, then shook her head. “What?”
Preacher’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “You heard me.”
“Yeah, I heard you,” Debbie breathed. “I just—are you serious?”
“Am I serious?” he laughed. “Of course I’m serious. I wanna do this right, you know? You and me and—” Preacher paused to glance at their daughter. “And Eva.”
He gave Debbie a lopsided grin. “We’re already a family, right? We should make this shit official.”
“I, uh…” Debbie didn’t know what to say. Preacher had caught her entirely off guard—she’d never pegged him for a big proponent of conventional institutions.
“Shit,” Preacher muttered, running a hand through his hair. “Shit. I did this all wrong.”
Untangling from Debbie, Preacher jumped out of bed and dropped down on one knee. Then he gestured for her hand.
In something of a daze, Debbie gave it to him, watching slack-jawed as he pulled her butterfly ring off her index finger and slid it onto her ring finger.
Holding up her hand, she looked at the ring as if she’d never seen it before.
“I promise I’ll get you somethin’ better,” he rushed to say. “A big, fat rock or somethin’. Whatever the fuck you want.” He grinned up at her.
He looked so young, she thought. Happy, too. His eyes were lighter—there was no trace of tension in his expression. Reaching for him, Debbie tucked a handful of loose hair behind his ear.
“Wheels, you gonna say somethin’ or you gonna leave me hangin’ ‘round down here like a goddamn fool?”
She hurried off the bed and into Preacher’s arms. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed a kiss to his lips. “Yes,” she whispered and kissed him again.
“What’s that?” he asked. He pulled back to look at her, still grinning.
She shoved at his chest. “Yes, I’ll marry you! Yes, yes, yes!”
He kissed her hard, laughing against her mouth—a deep, happy rumble that vibrated between them.
“I got another really important question.” Preacher broke their kiss. Holding Debbie’s face between his hands, his expression suddenly grave, he searched her eyes.
“Was that shithead doctor serious? Do we really gotta wait that long before havin’ sex again?”
Chapter 31
“What about this one?” Sylvia held up an infant-sized dress—pink, with a white lace bib, and thick white tulle lining the underside.
Earlier this morning Sylvia had phoned Debbie in a panic—she’d been overwrought, desperately needing to prepare for the quickly approaching birth of her second child, claiming she didn’t have nearly enough clothing, or bedding, or toys.
Debbie, having still not mastered the art of talking her way out of something Sylvia had her mind set on, found herself inside Macy’s department store, rifling through racks of overpriced infant clothing.
Debbie eyed the dress skeptically. “You don’t even know if it’s a girl. What if it’s a boy? You’re going to dress him in that?”
Sylvia shrugged. “Who’s gonna know when they’re that young?” She laughed. “Besides, I just got a feeling about this one.”
Tiny pried his eyes away from the blonde he was ogling. “You can’t be puttin’ boys in dresses, Sylvie.”
Scowling at Tiny, Sylvia slammed the dress back on the rack and huffed. “I just want a little girl so bad,” she said. “I can’t very well be doin’ hair and nails with this one!”
They both glanced at Trey—seated in his stroller, he was grabbing fruitlessly at the clothing on the racks. In a covered carriage beside him, Eva lay sleeping soundly.